Killing Monks

Therefore, every year during festivals, Li Zhao would come to Jinjia Temple to burn incense and fulfill his vows. He prayed to Buddha to bless him so that the coffin could be opened smoothly, to Bodhisattva to bless him with great wealth and honor, and to Buddha to prevent those wandering ghosts from coming to find him.

They would donate tens or hundreds of taels of silver for incense oil without batting an eye.

Today, he brought several servants with him, carrying offerings up the mountain. After entering the temple gate, he offered incense, kowtowed, and made a vow. After completing the whole process, he stood up and looked around.

The Golden Shackles Temple was deserted and quiet.

The monks who used to chant sutras are gone, and the young novices who used to sweep the floor are gone too. The courtyard is empty, with only the rustling of leaves in the wind.

Li Zhao was somewhat puzzled.

"Where are the masters today?" he asked Guangfa.

Guangfa stood to the side, his hands clasped together, his face calm.

"They cleared land and farmed on the back mountain."

Li Zhao was stunned.

"Clearing wasteland? Farming?"

He thought he had misheard.

"Those... are the menial jobs done by the lower classes. Why do you high monks do this too?"

In his mind, monks were simply people who chanted scriptures, performed rituals, and collected donations.

Farming? That's the job of tenant farmers, the job of monks. How can you expect monks to do it themselves?

Guangfa glanced at him.

"The monks at Jinjia Temple," he said, "all have to do the same thing."

Li Zhao looked completely bewildered.

What's going on?

Have these monks stopped chanting scriptures?

If the sutras aren't chanted, will Jinjia Temple still be effective? Wouldn't all the money he donated to burn incense during festivals be wasted?

His eyes darted around, and he asked calmly:

"How can the monks of your esteemed temple, who toil so hard farming every day, possibly worship Buddha?"

The question was phrased tactfully, but the meaning was quite clear.

If you don't chant scriptures or perform rituals, how can Buddha hear my prayers for his blessing?

Li Zhao wasn't asking for ordinary blessings; he was asking for blessings that would bring him success in tomb raiding and great wealth. Such things require the protection of a true Buddha, not a bunch of peasant monks.

Guangfa looked at him calmly.

"You worship Buddha today, you worship Buddha tomorrow, but does Buddha ever heed your prayers?"

Li Zhao was taken aback.

Guangfa continued.

"The Buddha resides in your heart, not on the altar. Bowing and burning incense daily is not as effective as doing one good deed. Accumulating virtue and doing good deeds naturally brings blessings. Without accumulating virtue, burning more incense is useless."

Li Zhao was completely confused.

What Buddha resides in the heart?

What is meant by accumulating good deeds?

If he has to accumulate good deeds, how can he get rich? Will he starve?

He only gets rich by not doing good deeds or virtuous acts!

He only goes to the temple to ask Buddha for blessings because he doesn't do good deeds. If he wants to do good deeds, why does he need Buddha?

Looking at Guangfa's calm face, he had only one thought in his mind: these monks had lost their minds.

Instead of properly worshipping Buddha, they run off to play in the mud. Who can a temple like this protect?

That's so unprofessional!

He gave a perfunctory reply and went down the mountain with his servants.

As he walked out of the gate of Jinjia Temple, he looked back and shook his head.

I can't come to this place again.

Li Zhao did not go straight home.

He had someone drive a horse-drawn carriage around to the other side of Tanhua County.

There is a temple there called Golden Sandalwood Temple.

In the past, Jinjia Temple was at its zenith in Tanhua County, with its incense burning brightly, overshadowing other smaller temples.

Jintan Temple was a small temple with only seven or eight monks and two courtyards. The main hall was even smaller than the side halls of Jinjia Temple.

It was usually deserted, with only a few poor people occasionally coming to burn incense and donate a few coins, which was considered enough to sustain the incense offerings.

But today, Li Zhao was stunned as soon as he entered the door.

The courtyard was packed with people.

Merchants in silk shirts, women carrying baskets, wives holding children, and men, women, and children of all ages thronged the small courtyard, making it extremely crowded.

The incense sticks in the incense burner were densely packed together, and the swirling smoke was so thick that it was hard to open one's eyes.

Several monks, sweating profusely, squeezed through the crowd, their voices nearly hoarse from shouting.

One pilgrim grabbed one to ask a question, while another grabbed the other to answer, keeping them all busy.

Even the abbot himself came out.

He was an elderly monk in his sixties, wearing a worn-out robe, standing at the entrance of the hall, greeting worshippers one by one, with a warm smile always on his face.

As soon as Li Zhao squeezed in, the abbot saw him.

The abbot looked him up and down, examining his silk robe, jade pendant, and thumb ring, his eyes lighting up slightly. He strode over and clasped his hands together in prayer.

"Your presence is an honor to our humble temple. Please come inside and have a cup of tea."

The voice was gentle and kind, like a spring breeze.

Li Zhao followed him inside, his gaze sweeping across the crowd before he suddenly stopped.

He saw several familiar faces.

He had seen those monks at Jinjia Temple.

At this moment, they were dressed in drab monk robes, squeezed into the crowd, helping the guest monk greet the worshippers. Their faces were not very good, but their hands were not idle, serving tea and water, busying themselves.

Li Zhao asked the abbot in a low voice, "Those people... are they the monks from Jinjia Temple?"

The abbot nodded and sighed.

"Amitabha. Jinjia Temple has suffered a misfortune, and the monks have nowhere to go, so they have temporarily stayed at our small temple."

He said, shaking his head.

"The monks of Jinjia Temple are doing perverse things, turning a perfectly good temple into that mess."

Li Zhao nodded repeatedly.

"Indeed. I went to see it, and it was deserted. The monks had all gone to farm; they weren't chanting scriptures or doing their morning and evening prayers. What kind of temple is that?"

Li Zhao nodded repeatedly.

"Indeed. I went to see it, and it was deserted. The monks had all gone to farm; they weren't chanting scriptures or doing their morning and evening prayers. What kind of temple is that?"

The abbot put his hands together in prayer and chanted a Buddhist mantra.

"Excellent, excellent. You have discerning eyes, benefactor."

Li Zhao felt comfortable after hearing what he said, so he casually took out a silver ingot from his sleeve and placed it on the incense table.

Ten taels.

The abbot's eyes lit up, and his smile deepened.

Not only did he keep Li Zhao company while he talked, but after Li Zhao left, he personally escorted him to the temple gate, murmuring all the way:

"With your sincerity, Buddha will surely bless you with peace, good fortune, and the fulfillment of your wishes."

"May misfortune turn into good fortune, and may calamities turn into blessings. If anything happens in the future, please come to this humble temple to offer incense, and this humble monk will certainly recite scriptures and pray for your well-being..."

Li Zhao got into the carriage, lifted the curtain, and looked back.

The incense at Jintan Temple is still burning, and wisps of smoke rise into the sky.

He lowered the curtain, leaned against the carriage wall, and felt at ease.

now it's right.

I will go wherever Buddha can protect me.

But he was at ease for only a few days before he learned another piece of news from a servant.

He was drinking tea in the backyard that day when the old servant rushed in with a strange expression.

"Master, something has happened."

Li Zhao put down his teacup: "What is it?"

"Jintan Temple has been sealed off!"

Li Zhao almost spat out his tea.

"What?!"

The old servant, panting, recounted the news he had heard in detail.

It was Constable Qi who personally led the team. A group of constables stormed into Jintan Temple, sealed off the mountain gate, affixed seals, and drove all the monks out of the temple.

It is said that the temple took in people without ordination certificates who impersonated monks and swindled money from offerings.

"Impersonating a monk?" Li Zhao was stunned.